Page 30 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

I was dancing with Corbin Buescher.

He was holding me in his arms, his hand sending delightful shivers down my body at each soft stroke. With every breath in my hair, every flex of his arm that pulled me into him inch by inch, he eroded the imaginary wall he built after kissing me on my stoop.

“So, Landon Norwood?” Corbin’s warm breath hit my ear, and my spine stiffened at the mention of Landon’s name.

“It’s a long story…”

“Well, I have time,” he murmured, pulling me closer. “And you don’t have an escape route.”

I grinned, feeling more charmed than trapped by his ensnarement—an all too willing participant in this game of cat and mouse.

“What can I say? We dated for a year—shortly after he and his parents moved to Misty Springs. I was… not in a good place when we met.” It didn’t feel like the time or the place to bring up my parents’ death, my spiral depression, my dropping out of school, and my decision to cut my own bangs.

“A few months ago, I walked in on him cheating on me with my boss.”

“You caught him, like walked in on?”

“Like walked in on. I chucked the ring at his head and stormed out.”

Corbin twirled me away from his body before pulling me back in, and I surprised myself by not tripping over my own two feet in the strappy heels I wore.

My smile beamed at him as we settled back into position, my heart dancing along with the sway of our bodies .

“I think I always knew we weren’t meant to be. But once he cheated, a lens opened to who he truly was. Every memory, every interaction, was darkened by a screen of black, like looking through cheap sunglasses. I realized I was never happy with Landon, not truly.”

Our bodies swayed in unison for a couple more shaky heartbeats.

“I can’t believe I’m airing all my dirty laundry to my new boss.”

“Technically, I’m your boss’s… boss’s… boss’s… boss,” he corrected. “And the good news about me is, I will never sleep with Landon.”

I threw my head back and laughed. I felt Corbin’s deep chuckle beneath my hand as it rested on his chest between our bodies.

“Despite the initial shock, I can now look back and be glad it ended before we made vows of forever.”

“I’m glad you ended it, too.” His hand dropped lower on my back, skittering along the edge of my dress.

We spun in silence for a few seconds, our bodies slowly pressing in tighter with each shuffle of our feet.

Every time I glanced his way, he was already looking at me—his gaze a mix of longing and restraint—sending a shiver of excitement down my spine.

The push and pull between us was both maddening and titillating. Corbin had drawn some invisible line somewhere between us, one that I wasn’t sure where it started or ended, but I was desperate to poke and prod until I found the edges of that line.

I pulled him closer.

He pulled me even tighter.

I smiled—soft, uncertain.

He smiled back like it hurt a little.

The space between us diminished, yet the line we couldn’t cross still separated us.

I dared to keep testing, and my hips pushed forward, pressing me into him deeper, and I felt him harden under the gentle sway of my body.

His breath came out short and hot in my hair. His hand flexed against my bare skin before dropping lower, cupping my ass through the silky material of my dress and pushing me harder against him .

I turned my head, my heels placed me at the perfect height to press my lips gently against the soft scruff of his neck, just below his ear.

“Sophia,” he whispered like a warning into my hair.

His hips slowly thrust forward, rubbing his hard length against my core.

The friction set my veins on fire, a living flame in a sea of pretentious bodies, all too self-absorbed to notice me burning alive in the darkened corner of the dance floor.

More. I needed more.

Instead of giving me what I craved, he slowly released my hand.

A twinge of panic set in, worried that I had pushed too far until I realized the room was quieting and the song had wound down.

My body protested at the loss of his touch. And just like the night he drove me home, it felt like we didn’t have enough time. These fleeting moments coiled me up tight, leaving my pulse pounding and my body dripping with need.

My aversion to dancing was completely eradicated—now that was all I wanted to do—to hold him against me, to push and feel around for the edges of Corbin’s boundaries.

But I knew better than to expect it to last. Corbin had more important things to do than spend the entire evening with me, and I couldn’t expect otherwise.

This is why, when he tipped my chin up to meet his gaze and asked, “Care for a drink?” I almost had to pinch myself.

“Definitely,” I answered.

On our way to the bar, Corbin was stopped constantly, introducing me every time as his new Assistant Editor to their Misty Springs branch. People didn’t care to meet me—they only gave me attention because Corbin directed them to.

We had just wrapped up a conversation with another over-posturing couple when a deep voice sounded behind me.

“Who is this lovely lady you’ve seemed to entrap tonight, Corbin?”

I turned to a man in a navy suit that fit him impeccably well. His tan skin was smooth, his chiseled features framed by a perfectly trimmed beard that made him look like he’d just stepped out of a luxury cologne ad. His coffee-brown hair was cropped short, creating an effortlessly polished look .

“Davis.” Corbin’s tone shifted to an undercurrent of tension. “This is Sophia.”

“Sophia,” Davis repeated, his lips curving into an easy grin as he extended a hand.

I slid my hand into his large grip. “A pleasure.”

“Sophia is the new Assistant Editor at our Misty Springs branch.” Corbin cut through our exchange.

“I wasn’t aware that any other Buescher employees were coming to tonight’s event,” Davis said, his eyes bouncing between us.

Corbin feigned indifference. “She was initially invited through another firm. This was long before we finalized the details of her employment. But what luck, she agreed to join our company instead.”

“Luck indeed.” Davis’s eyes scanned me subtly.

His presence set off an alert in my brain—absurdly handsome, undeniably charming, but something lurked beneath the surface. Perhaps it was nothing, or perhaps after everything I went through with Landon, I had gotten better at detecting monsters.

Corbin came up with some excuse to move on from Davis, but the brief interaction had changed something in the air. The weight that pushed around us, driving us together, thinned—forcing us to move asynchronously.

Corbin no longer extended his arm for me, instead keeping a small but safe distance.

We approached a large oak bar, and Corbin waved at the bartender to come over as we hovered near two barstools.

“What’s your name?” Corbin asked as he slid a fifty across the bar to the man.

“Brandon, sir,” he replied, picking up the money and leaning casually over the bar top.

“Brandon, you’ll get another one of these when I return. Keep an eye on her, don’t let anyone near her, and get me a whiskey, neat,” Corbin commanded.

“Um, wow, ok, first of all, you are my boss’s... boss’s… whatever at work , not in my personal life. Second of all, where are you going? Third of all, can I have a gin martini, please?” The first two were directed at Corbin, the last at Brandon.

Brandon looked at Corbin as if for permission.

He nodded .

I scoffed.

Corbin put his hands on my arms, the smallest amount of contact driving out my anger and reigniting my desire.

Damn, my traitorous body.

“I need to look for my grandfather—it’s important. And I don’t want you to get kidnapped by Landon, murdered by Perry, or eaten by Alicia while I’m gone.”

I let out a breathy laugh and fell onto the barstool.

“Fine. But only because my feet are killing me in these heels, and all the people-ing I’ve had to do with you has been exhausting.”

“Just give me five minutes, ten tops.” Corbin grabbed his drink and spun away, not sparing me a second glance.

The bartender shook the martini shaker that housed my drink as a woman came up with a full glass of wine. “I asked for a chardonnay. How hard is it to pour a proper glass of wine?”

“My mistake, ma’am. I’ll get you another right away.” He took her glass and poured it out, then quickly plucked the chardonnay bottle from its icy scabbard, showing her the label before pouring a fresh glass.

The woman huffed and turned away, muttering how hard it was to find good help.

“How do you stand these people, Brandon?” I asked him as he placed my drink in front of me.

Brandon grinned as he leaned on the bar, one elbow resting casually on the polished wood.

His sandy blonde hair curled slightly at the ends, a little too long to be considered neat, but it suited him.

His warm hazel eyes, framed by thick lashes most women would kill for, sparkled with mischief as he gave me an exaggerated shrug.

“They’re not so bad.” He shrugged, his voice light with amusement.

“Keeps me on my toes, you know? One minute, someone’s asking for a vodka soda.

The next, they want an essence of artisanal elderflower in a glass misted with unicorn tears.

” He tilted his head, pretending to consider.

“You’d be surprised how often I have unicorn tears on hand. ”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Sounds exhausting.”

“Eh. Pays the bills. Plus, I get to meet interesting people.”

Fine, let Corbin wander off all he wants. The people at this gala were vapid, terrifying monsters. But bartenders? They have a natural rapport with other bartenders, and this one just so happened to be just as fun to talk to as he was to look at.